He Was Innocent
by Padfoot Lives
Summary: They remember Sirius. Yet when laughter threatens to break through your grief, they realize that guilt can wipe away sanity ...


  
Disclaimer: *sniff* If only I was lucky enough to own the wizarding world! Sadly (as I'm sure everyone can already guess), I don't own any part of 'Harry Potter'. It doesn't really count, but the only things I do own relating to the books is this fic and the others I've written.   
  
Summary: They remember Sirius. Yet when laughter threatens to break through your grief, they realize that guilt can wipe away sanity ...   
  
Note: This is a one-chapter fic, with different people's POV. The last is everyone's POV.   
  
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**He Was Innocent**   
  
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Albus Dumbledore, you are a sham. I am a fool. Dawn has not yet broken, but silence reigns. I have not slept. Instead, I stand in my sanctuary, my hypocritical office, and I look in the mirror now, and I laugh. My laughter rings through the room with a strange kind of hollow bitterness that nobody would ever connect to me. They believe me undefeatable, indestructible, the timeless soul of reassurance and the embodiment of all that is good. The Only One He Ever Feared. Oh, how I laugh, for I am nothing! Nothing but a fool! Nothing!

These past five years have been close to hell for me, for all I have done is worry. Nobody sees beyond the twinkle in my blue eyes, no one but Minerva and she tries to bear as much of my care as she can. But it is indeed all I have done. Worry about the magical world, about the Muggles who do not know we exist, about my friends and loyal followers, about what would happen to us all when Voldemort rose again, about Harry. Over and over I have sworn to myself that I will not make the same mistakes again. That I will not gamble and take the risks that got Gideon and Fabian ambushed by thirteen Death Eaters so long ago, that got Frank and Alice tortured and damaged, that got James and Lily killed ...

And then Sirius escaped, and I had more to worry about. When I heard of his innocence - oh, how my heart bled for an innocent man suffering twelve years of horror and torment in those harrowing dungeons of Azkaban. I swore then, and again when Cedric died, that I would not make those mistakes again.

But I've done it again.

I warned Sirius of his recklessness, and I forgot about his human loneliness and affection for Harry and the others. I told him to stay in Grimmauld Place, a place of nightmares to him, and forbade him from leaving the house. I even gave orders to Molly to keep him there. My God, I damaged a man who could bear anything but that kind of handicap. And then he went after Harry, on that fatal night in the Department of Mysteries. Could I have expected any less of him?

No forgiveness will make up for what I have done. What I fool I was, to have not seen, to have not known. I thought I was protecting him, but I sent him to his fate. Oh Merlin, wise Merlin, why do you pick and choose your destinies the way you do? Why did you take him? He was strong, he was brave, he had a heart of gold inside a dark past ... why did you steal him away? Why him, why him, why not me instead? Why wasn't it me, when I was the one to make the mistakes?

I am guilty, but he was innocent.

  
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This office in the dungeons is supposed to be my sanctuary. Sanctuary?! It is laughable, and I do laugh. Yes indeed, I laugh, and it echoes around me like a prison of my own insanity. I have no sanctuary; none from my memories, from my sins, none from my guilt. This room of cold stone walls and rigid, neat wooden desk and papers is supposed to reflect my cold, emotionless humanity and it does. Yet if one looks deep into the room, they see the jars and bottles of potions hidden away in dark corners. Potions that simmer and bubble, like I simmer and bubble with the pain of what I have done.

Damn you, Black, why did you push me so far?

We grew up hating each other during all our years at Hogwarts. I couldn't bear him for being the handsome, charming, loyal, strong, brave one - for being the one with the most noble of all friends. He scorned me with James, made me feel like shrinking into the ground and tearing my life away, yet did I ever give them a chance to like me? I hated Black, hated him for everything ... and for years I waited for my chance to make him want to shrivel up and tear his heart out.

Fate gave me my chance, didn't it? When he was at his most vulnerable - tormented by the legacy of a house, hunted by the law and the creatures of hell, crippled in place simply because of the wretched innocence of his past - I took advantage of him and I mocked him. I was the one to make him shrink, make him feel worthless and useless and make him wither with the guilt of not being able to help Potter and Lupin and Potter's friends. I was the one to plant that seed of self-doubt in his head, so that when he was tested, he gave in to the cry of the hero and went to that Veil of his own end.

I did nothing! It was you, Black, you who for years pushed me to that one climax!

Oh, have I reached so low that I now blame a dead man for my crimes? Are you dead, Sirius Black, are you truly dead? He is not gone ... I feel his presence haunting me, haunting me with what I did to him. I cannot escape this, I am being driven to madness by this. You damaged me, Black, but I've done worse - I did worse to him. I destroyed him. Oh Merlin, Merlin, Merlin - what have I done? His laughter mocks me for my guilt now, yet I cannot chase his specter away. You should have propelled me into that night instead, Fate, you should have chosen me and ended this ceaseless torment of my own crimes and my own conscience.

I am guilty, but he was innocent.

  
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They ask me what's wrong, why I've grown so pale and worn. Don't they realize, don't they see how my heart brutally murders me for my mistakes? Even Arthur doesn't understand. I remember him so well ... remember that haunted, hunted look in his eyes, that look Azkaban gave him, when he should never have had to be there. I remember the boy he once was, the innocence mischief and spirit that was the essence of Sirius. He was innocent, innocent, he was so innocent!

I laugh at the irony of this situation, and yet I don't know why I'm laughing. What could possibly be so funny, and yet it is so funny. Oh, I am mad.

And all too vivid are the unforgivable words I said to him, pushing him, hurting him ... 

_It was rather hard for you to be there for Harry, wasn't it, when you were in Azkaban all the time ... He isn't James, Sirius! ... You don't deserve Harry, what have you ever done to deserve somebody like Harry in your life?_

... I watch the rain fall outside and wish the pure drops could wash away my agony quite so easily. He could have been my son, I think I always thought of him as my responsibility, yet those words ... those words ...

I don't deserve forgiveness, but the least the world could have done was spare his life in that fatal moment. He should not have fallen, not him, why him?

I may be guilty, but he was innocent.

  
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I'm standing in my bedroom in the Burrow, watching Fred and George try to spark some life into Harry outside, watching Hermione sitting on the stile alone and also watching them. They don't worry about me, and for that I'm grateful. They don't need to know. Nobody would ever guess why I would rather sleep in the same bed as Blast-Ended Skrewts than suffer this. They blame themselves, they blame each other, they blame Sirius himself ... but nobody thinks to blame me. And why not? Why don't they remember that I screwed up too?

Merlin, don't they remember?

Who couldn't hold Umbridge off before she got to her office and pulled Harry away from the fire? Who didn't think of Snape, still at the castle, when we thought all the Order was gone? Who couldn't fight off the Inquisitorial Squad and prevent Harry and Hermione's flight? Who was always so weak that he couldn't even stand up to his best friend and think of a more logical way to work things out? Who didn't convince Harry to find another way to get to Sirius, not to rush off? Who was the fool who brought Harry and Hermione's wands to them in the Forest? If I'd left them behind, we would all have had to go back to the castle and retrieve them, and we would have run into Snape, who would have told us Sirius was all right ...

And then Sirius would be alive now. I _liked_ Sirius, a lot. He was so much cooler and interesting and much more fun than most of the adults I know, and when he supported the DA with such enthusiasm, I liked him even more. Even Fred and George liked him, and they only like the best of the best. Of course, they like Hermione too, and she isn't strictly cool, but that could just be because she's really nice. Oh God ... I keep coming back to Sirius. Why didn't I think? Why did I just blindly go along with Harry, and not even stop to think about Hermione's warnings? Why did I pick up their wands, oh why was I such a fool? And why don't they realize that I played a part in the tragedy too? Why don't they remember that I've also make my mistakes, and that my mistakes have also cost a man his life.

It should never have happened. I shouldn't have been stupid enough to grab that large brain and get into trouble with it! If I hadn't, I might have been able to duel as well, and maybe Sirius wouldn't have ended up with Bellatrix Lestrange after all. Maybe I would have instead, and maybe I'd have ended up falling through the Veil, into its dark chasm, and maybe I'd be the one lucky enough to escape my demons and my guilt. Lucky?! Oh Merlin, you're stealing my sanity away from me!

Was Sirius lucky to have been the one to fall? Oh help me, I'm going crazy. My eyes no longer focus on the people in my garden, but are instead a blur of hot salt. Lucky, lucky, I would have been lucky to have fallen through that Veil instead, instead of being here, here with these demons and these nightmares and these endless questions of 'if only' and 'what if'. Lucky! I start to laugh as I stand here, and my laughter is hysterical and dreadfully empty of all mirth. Oh, this is hysterically funny! To have been lucky ... oh, I am going mad, this pain of bearing guilt that nobody believes should exist is driving me mad.

_This should never have happened!_

Sirius! It shouldn't have been him. Because although I might be guilty, he was innocent.

  
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The Ministry of Magic wrote Dumbledore a full letter of apology, apologising for their mistaken belief that Sirius Black was a murderer, apologising for not realizing sooner and listening to us about Voldemort rising again, apologising for trying to run Harry and Dumbledore's names through mud and making public mockeries of them. And through it all, they're signing petitions about welfare-towards-werewolves and defense-classes and Aurors-on-alert, and I sit by and watch it all happen.

Now, it's dusk again and the full moon rises in an hour or two. I yearn for it now, for it's only during that full moon that I can morph and Remus Lupin fades away into the raw animal. I cherish the animal for it now gives me something I can only dream of otherwise: numbness. I no longer remember, I no longer realize, I no longer feel anything but the thirst and hunger for the hunt. I become the hunter, and the man - with his pain, his memories and his guilt - disappears into those ached-for shadows. The minutes tick by so slowly, each minute longer than a year ... rise for me, moon. I banished you for years, but I was your minion through it all. Show me a reward for my devotion, and rise for me ...

I laugh, oh, how I laugh. It's a bitter, twisted laugh, so unlike my own, as I see the way they try to pretend the past year did not happen, that Voldemort has been waiting for them to wake up and realize he's back before acting in the open. Oh yes, I laugh, because I always think of him. Sirius should have been here; he would have loved this masquerade!

Damnation awaits me when I die. And even despite the hell I know lies in store for me, I will welcome it. Without James, without Sirius - soon the war will end and Harry, Ron and Hermione will no longer need someone to watch over me, and I can seek my release - I will welcome it. 

I was a boy when James, Sirius and Peter became friends with me, and did not shun me when they realized what I was. I was older than Sirius, older by four months, and I took it upon myself to be his guardian, the hand holding him back when he got too reckless. I was the coolheaded one, and it was my duty and I wanted to keep him safe from his own recklessness. I owed it to him, owed it to Sirius after all the times he protected and loyally stood by me, and never gave up on me when I was ready to give up on myself and everything else. I undoubtedly owed it to him.

It was my task to watch over him in Grimmauld Place, but I fell short. It was my job to reassure him about his strength and usefulness when he was wracked by hopelessness, but I fell short. It was my duty to be there for my best friend when he needed somebody to tell him that the day would come when he would be free again, to give him answers to the questions he asked about Harry, but I didn't do enough. It was up to me to keep him away from the Department of Mysteries that night, no matter how much he protested and fought and wanted to go, but I did not keep him away.

It was up to me, and me alone, to be his best friend when James was gone, but I failed.

All the hells of the world may seize my body and soul when I finally stop breathing, because I know that I deserve no less. I failed him, failed him in ways worse than anybody could ever imagine. I failed him, and it is him who mercilessly fell through the darkness of the Veil when it should have been me. It should be me lying in the mysterious abyss that he now floats through! Me!

Oh, moon, you have not forsaken me. I wonder why. I don't deserve to be spared this anguish, even just for one night out of twenty-one. Hair grows along my skin, my body is turning rigid, I'm starting to forget. The teeth spring forth and paws clatter to the ground. The wolf has risen, and he is ready to hunt. His jaws seek the throat of a woman, a woman with hollow eyes and coal-black hair ... oh, Merlin, you have not given me salvation tonight. I remember, I remember Sirius and Bellatrix and I remember who I am. 

If I was still in the human's body, I would be laughing, for I understand only too well what is happening to me. Laughing, laughing my way into insanity. The wolf has not been given a full victory this night; you have not given me mercy, and I do not want it. I know why I haven't been spared.

I am guilty, and he was innocent.

  
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I always had a bit of a crush on him. He was everything a girl dreamed of; handsome, fun, rakish, and he had a sweet protectiveness that was testimony to his heart. He was not a mad core of darkness and stone, and he was not the murderer we believed he was. Oh, Sirius, how lucky you are to have escaped this! For you held on to your innocence and your sanity till the very end, while the rest of us still live in this web of lies and memory and endless, ceaseless guilt.

We are lost, Sirius.

I am lost.

How can I ever ask for forgiveness for what I did? They don't understand, none of them! Harry blames himself, and Dumbledore blames himself, and Professor Lupin blames himself. Oh, but it is funny the way our guilt has wrapped us around its little finger and torn away all rationality. Don't they realize where the blame really lies? I killed him, my God, I was the one who killed him! Harry loved him, Remus loved him, Mrs Weasley loved him, I loved him - and I killed him! Funny, isn't it?

How did you get so lucky, Sirius? You don't realize how fortunate you are to have gotten away when you did. Lord, am I mad to say so? Am I mad to wish with every part of my heart and soul that I was in his place right now? Ahead of us lies only death, devastation, loss and madness, eternal destruction of our minds and our innocence. We were all innocent, damn it, but now we're all broken by guilt. You escaped our fate, Sirius, and for that a part of me is happy. At least you've been spared our agony, our torment, our future of nothing but pain. Even victory will not be sweet, for look at what we've lost already. Oh yes, I wish I was in your place, but I'm also glad you were the one to be spared.

Yet it should never have happened the way it did. I must be losing my mind already, because I find a paradox here. He should never have had to die, he shouldn't have been the one forced to fall. I did that to him, I caused his fall, I am the one to blame and nobody even realizes it! Why am I not lying there in his place, why isn't he here to watch over Harry, for Harry to love like a father or brother? Why wasn't I the one to fall instead?

Satan, come for me. Rip me away from magic and wizards and take me to the hell of Muggles. I know now why they mock Muggles so, for I am the child of Muggles and I bear the foolishness to prove it. I deserve to burn in hell for what I did to him. I was the one who came up with the brilliant plan of going into the Forbidden Forests, to the centaurs, to Grawp. If we hadn't wasted so much time, we might have found Snape and found out that Sirius was okay. We might have realized so many things that were realized too late ... oh, I think my mind snapped the moment I heard he was gone. Gone - Sirius! Gone!

Oh God, are you blind to the reality? Why didn't you take me instead?

I am guilty, but he was innocent.

  
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What can I say? It was my fault, all my fault. I think about Sirius and about my loss, yes, but I've not gotten so blind that I don't see what they're doing to themselves. Even right now, it's a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, and I can see them all.

I can see the haunted bitterness in Snape's pale face. He's nastier than ever, and I know that's because he's trying to shut off all emotion, and he's failing. He hated Sirius, but that was a strong emotion and one emotion can swiftly change into another.

I can see the tired sadness in Professor Lupin's. He looks more weary than ever, and I know why that is. It's because he's trying to forget and he's trying to pour all he has into his work so that he can forget. He doesn't want to forget his memories, only his guilt.

I can see Mrs. Weasley holding her handkerchief to her eyes. She can't bear these discussions because Sirius always interrupted to argue at some point and its so dreadfully quiet without him to do that. She cries because she can no longer argue with him, and those arguments make her cry as well.

I can see Ron looking so utterly frightened and miserable, like he expects one of us to point a finger at him and cry "Why did you do it, Ron?" at him in an angry, bitter voice. He fears his own guilt, but he's facing it and its destroying him.

I can see Professor Dumbledore speaking to us like a true leader, yet that twinkle has gone out of his blue eyes with the light, and I know what that means. That means age, and age means conscience, and conscience means guilt.

I can see Hermione, sitting curled up in the window and staring outside. She's listening to the meeting, but her eyes and her heart is fixed elsewhere. She's lost, lost in her pain and her escaping sanity, and her guilt, and I don't know if she can come back.

Oh no, I am not as self-centered and blind as they think. I am the only one clinging to sanity still, the only one amongst us all. Aren't I? Aren't I? Of course I am. I'm the only one capable of remembering the reality and the truth. The only one with their minds still intact and unbroken. Aren't I?

They think its their fault, that they somehow caused his death, his destruction. I see it in their eyes, in every fibre of them, in their voices, in their nightmares, in their screams and their hysterical, psychotic laughter that means absolutely nothing and echoes through the night like a fragment of hell unwitnessed by even St. Mungo's worst cases.

And I laugh, because it's so funny that they do this and they don't realize that the simplest answer is the true one. It was me, it was all me, and every shred of blame falls upon me.

I forgot all about the mirror Sirius gave me. I forgot all about Kreacher and how untrustworthy he was. I didn't stop to think about the consequences of my hasty actions, or to listen to Hermione when she tried to warn me. I was the fool to forget all about Snape in the castle, and I was the one stupid enough not to realize that he really meant to help us, that he really understood me when I shouted my coded words, but he couldn't very well show his understanding. I was the fool, the damned fool who ruined everything! I made Sirius care about me, I made my friends follow me to the Ministry that night, I drew those Death Eaters to that fatal fight, I was the one who had to play the hero and as a result, became the killer.

Oh, what can I say? What can anybody say? How can anyone doubt what I've done?

Isn't it funny, how we've all destroyed ourselves because of what happened to one person we all loved. Isn't it funny, how we all played a part in killing a man we loved, and yet we still love him. Sirius didn't deserve what happened to him, and we didn't deserve somebody like him to love us. I'd gladly take your place now, Sirius, my godfather, my confidant. I'd sell my soul to be in your shoes, sell my soul to have you back so that you could restore the light to us all. This should never have happened to you.

We were all innocent once, but that time is dead to us now.

  
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I should have been the one taken away. Me ... us ... not him! It's funny, but even though it would have meant the end of all hope in defeating Voldemort, I should have been the one! Oh, isn't it ironic and funny how sacrifices must be made for the good of the world? Sacrifice can go to hell, I want my justice. Merlin, what were you thinking when you stole the wrong man off this land?

We are the guilty, and he was innocent.

  
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A/N: This fic is rather different from many of my others, but its pretty angsty like most of the rest. Anyway, please review and let me know what you think! Thanks!   
  
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